Kavinay
Charles Soule's Lando book was a fantastic take on the character. He distinguished Lando as a master hustler because he's a bad guy who thinks he's good (as opposed to Han Solo who's a good guy who thinks he's bad).
This book is not that. Lando is a punchline, even to himself. A major disappointment given the great roadmap Soule provided for quite possibly the most interesting of the original trilogy characters.
L3's inclusion is nice, but you really wonder how much better this could have been with a more thoughtful approach to Lando's moral ambiguity.
Here's a spoiler: the takeaway from Wainwright is that prohibition doesn't work. But unlike the resident pothead, his thesis is based on analysis that exposes drug war policy as often wasteful or even counterproductive.
Drug lords adapt is probably a better subtitle. There's nothing particularly novel revealed by Wainright's research if you have a passing understanding of the politics of drug enforcement. But what he does well is tie the operating norms of violent cartels with the incentives created by the very institutions that seek to control them. Violence is the the criminal enterprise's recourse in the absence of enforceable contracts. When you combine that operating reality with a demand curve that's only growing and a hydra-like supply line, is it any wonder why cartels thrive against policies that only escalate the drug war?
It would be really easy to dismiss Elric as tropey pulp fantasy. I mean, it absolutely IS that. But this is a character that first appeared in 1961 and a book that only came together in the early 70s. If anything D&D owes more to Moorcock than even Tolkien.
This is why when Elric is doing some his most stupid emo-princelinging, it helps to remember that pretty much everyone from Drizzt to Lotar and even Kylo Ren can trace their creative lineage back to the original mopey prince of pulp.
The Raven Guard/Iron Hands marriages of convenience are becoming as tropey and boring as anything to do with Calth.
The Seventh Serpent might be the best story in the lot, but even then, you struggle to keep the cast of characters straight. Is it because it's too complex or really just that it's so hard to care about any of these interchangeable marines?
Move along.
Once in a while I venture back towards “literary fiction” in the hope that maybe there's more to it than WASPy sexual dysfunction.
Nope.
I've never understood this fascination literary writers or their fans have with self referential composition as end to itself–a profoundly empty meta. Congrats to Baker for reaching Ondaatje levels of lettered masturbation.
As an aside, man has this book not aged well to boot. The adventures of a serial rapist are not as charming or funny as Baker seems to think he makes them.
I was disappointed by Coates' original run on Black Panther. It felt like he was suffocating under the weight of so much continuity baggage and just couldn't get out of his own way to tell an engaging story or even hit upon a theme with any force.
In contrast, what a brilliant idea the Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda is! It does two magical things right off the top: clear the deck of Marvel canon and allow Coates to really create and explore a setting that's baked-in with a lot of the ideas of his political work.
Empire, Imperialism, Colonization. These are all issues that are difficult to do with a contemporary Black Panther without being really on the nose. That Coates' Afro-future turns this on it's head, with Wakanda as the conquerors for “pre-emptive peace,” is just so much the more intriguing.
Also, whereas previous BP books were basically monologues with little to advance the plot, Coates cleverly relies on Acuña's stellar art for kinetic panels that convey so much action and emotion clearly and effectively.
BTW, holy crap, a Venom tie-in that isn't crap!
A really exciting start. I genuinely hope this setting gets a long and fruitful run.
Most of racial struggle only makes sense in context and what a context this book provides.
Some may critique the treatment of Newton and Cleaver with kid gloves–there's certainly a lot there still be explored–but this is no hagiography of Black Panther leadership or the party itself. The rise and fall of the party is just stunning. Maybe three years of prominence and then a spectacular fall off the national stage. Bloom and Martin tell a detailed history of not just the events but the mindset and–most importantly– the mindset behind each of the major events in the party's movement.
In a sense, you're constantly boggled by how a militant, socialist and anti-racist activism of any kind could grow to such prominence when you consider the horror directed toward contemporary movements like BLM. Black Against Empire is a hell of an eye opener.
It's almost cheating to include the Annual, The Starscream Move, here. It might be the single best story told in the run of IDW's universe. Thundercracker under John Barber is an utter joy.
The mainline issues though are another matter. A lot of Prime's critics are basically rehashing the same points over and over again. I get it Slide/Pyra Magna...
Still what's clever about Barber's run in the end is his approach to Optimus (and Cybertron in general) not at as a hagiography but rather as a the more fallible character that Arcee memorializes. We all know how Primes end... but Barber and company did try hard to achieve something something noteworthy compared to conventional “such heroic nonsense.” :D
So much about this book is wonderful, from finding useful ways to engage the OT characters to Clone Wars era call outs. Threepio's moment in the sun as a theater actor especially is such a witty scene that distinguishes Gillen from much of the retread tropes of most Star Wars fiction.
But the art. Argh. It just creeps me the hell out, and that's even with me appreciating the Imperial Navy commander resembling Neil Tennant.
The story is okay, with the last issue being exceptional. That being said, the art... I just don't like it. The colours especially just lend an “uncanny valley” effect to the characters and creates exceptionally creepy skin tones. I sincerely wish the in-book art was similar to the issue covers and didn't get in the way by jarring you with each awkwardly photo-realistic scene.
I don't even know is the story is that great. Lovecraftian elder gods etc. A
are okay, but what really stands out is Mignola's art. Artists with a strong inking background make a unique and powerful visual style that's unique to comic books. It's not just an homage to Jack Kirby either but also a perfect marriage of heavy blacks to occult subjects.
There's actually nothing unpredictable in this book. It's basically an evangelical scholar outing his own community as political opportunists.
One of the more useful history lessons in Fea's primer on religious power in America is his focus on the phenomena of court evangelicals. A brilliant term for faith leaders attracted to wealth entrenching politicians.
Argh. Soule's story telling is fine, the art is just a major obstacle for me.
There is some thing about the combination of Unzueta's pencils and Prianto's colours that is just really jarring. It's an uncanny valley effect of reproducing the likenesses of on-screen characters on the page. I'm not saying the art is poor. Far from it. In fact, it might be that the two artists do such a good job at the photo-realistic portrayals of characters like Poe and Leia that I'm stuck on the art rather than experiencing it with Soule's writing.
You know when you used to read Chomsky a few decades ago as a political and economic prophylactic against the powers that be? This book is what you get after the world becomes a place where not enough people paid people like Chomsky enough attention.
It's not getting any better folks. The least you can do is come to grips with the bleak status quo that Chomsky provides the tools to reveal.
I worried through the first chapters of this book, but Oluo does the hard and ultimately rewarding work towards the end. This book is probably a good primer on most of the topics that make talking about race and racism hard. Oluo really gets into the weeds in a good way in regards to the school to prison pipeline and the wonderfully titled “But What if I Hate Al Sharpton?” chapter.
I wonder if the intro and first chapters that bothered me were probably not intended for me. If you've already done a lot of reading on the subject you might think So You Want to Talk About Race was a very entry level book on the subject. It's not but you have to wait until Oluo can get further on the details to really enjoy it.
